


The Instrument of the Sorrowful

by anarchycox



Series: Anarchycox's 2019 Personal Writing Challenge [14]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 11:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18410072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Small magics are left in the world, and to use them costs a great deal.Merlin is always willing to pay the price





	The Instrument of the Sorrowful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻譯】悲傷之器 The Instrument of the Sorrowful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441647) by [sandykill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandykill/pseuds/sandykill)



> This is a birthday gift for a very dear friend whom I wish only happiness and a kind world for. All the best my friend.

It stayed at home. A home no one knew existed. He was never sure if it was because no one had ever asked or because he was deliberately hiding away. Or if it was because maybe his home didn’t actually exist. He imagined it when sitting at the computer typing away. His mind drifted and created an end to the work day and went to a ridiculously absurd row house, tall and skinny, three men could barely stand side by side in it. But he supposed if he was just imagining the home, he’d imagine something more comfortable.

But in that absurd house he could never be sure actually existed, was the object he kept. No, that kept him. They kept each other. In the very tiny personal office there was a desk that shouldn’t have even been able to fit through the door. It reached wall to wall and was old. It was scarred, and burned and such solid wood that it would take five men who couldn’t fit in the room to get it out. Merlin supposed the desk was a part of the house. The object that shouldn’t exist, in an impossible desk, in an absurd house, owned by a man who pretended he was a wizard.

He tried to forget it was there, even as he almost always felt the weight of it in his hands. Typing it felt like it was resting against his fingers, cutting into dinner and he held the knife like a pen - Harry loathed it. When Merlin stroked his cock at night, he could feel it. It was always with him, even as it sat in a cheap cardboard box, water stained, held together with tape. In drawer that sometimes wouldn’t open, in the desk that shouldn’t exist, in a house that was imagined by a child, by the man who thought he could save the world.

_ Last test my boy, all you have to do is go in that room and pick an object. _

_ That’s not much of a test. Not compared to the last two years. _

_ Harder than you think. Be careful, do not pick at random. Pick at random and it will never work for you.  _

_ And if I don’t feel the urge to pick anything? _

_ Then you aren’t the Merlin. _

 

They had saved the world. They did it with balls and luck and prayers. They did it without Harry. When they returned to London the children were tired and passed out at the estate and there would be so much work on the morrow. But he couldn’t sleep, not yet. Merlin went to the tiny office and hit the desk in the right spot so the drawer would open. Sometimes no matter what he did, it wouldn’t open. Meant that what he wanted the pen for, wasn’t really worth it. But this time the drawer opened and he pulled out the cheap cardboard box and a piece of paper. He was never out of paper, never had to buy it. There was just always a single sheet of almost card stock under the box. Thick, heavy, just a little textured. It was never computer paper white, an off white that someone would perhaps name french vanilla, or ecru, or eggshell. He couldn’t name colours beyond saying white or off white. He thought maybe he knew how to before but he couldn’t now.

There were lots of small things like that that he used to know and now didn’t.

On the flight home he had tried to raise all his agents on the comms, only half answered. That wouldn’t do there was a world to repair. He lay the paper on the desk at the slightest angle. He opened the cardboard box and picked up the pen. The muscles in his back always seemed to relax when the pen was in his hand. It was meant to be held. By him. He wondered if he was the only Merlin it had called to, if each object in the room had been magic, or if the magic imbued the chosen object. He would never know.

The metal was cool but swiftly warmed in his hand. He held it for a moment, not pressing it to paper yet. Needing to collect himself, because this would hurt. It always hurt.

In books and movies, people used magic like it was nothing. A wave of a wand, a hand flung out and power erupted.

He wondered if it had once been like that, and there was just so little left it cost to use. He had a feeling it always cost, and less and less people were willing to pay the price.

The Merlin always paid the price.

He dipped the tip of the pen into the empty jar of ink that was in the cardboard box and pressed the nib to the paper.

 

**There was a table of knights and they fought a fierce battle. They were strong and true and just. And when their wizard called to them, to bring them home, they all answered. All of these men answered: Percival, Bors, Tristan, Kay, Lamorak, Gawain, Ector.**

**Galahad, late as always, answered the call as well.**

 

That would hurt the most, for he knew Harry was dead. Asking magic to raise the dead, the cost would be fearsome. The other agents, there names were a rich, blue, though he couldn’t define the colour more than that, but Galahad was pale. Merlin took a deep breath and dipped the pen in the empty ink pot again and carefully wrote the words again.

 

**Galahad, late as always, answered the call as well.**

 

Still too pale. One more dip into the ink. The magic was making sure he was willing to do this, pay the price.

The Merlin always paid the price.

 

**Galahad, late as always, answered the call as well.**

 

The words had been difficult to write that last time, his hand shook with the power it was holding. He had a fierce headache; it always came when he finished writing. The magic shifting from arm to his mind, to see what it would take, to see what Merlin would give, what he would sacrifice to make the words real.

“Thank you,” he told the pen and back it went into the cheap box, in the sticky drawer, in the puzzling desk, in the bizarre house, with the man who would give everything for his agents.

The paper stayed where it was and Merlin stumbled to bed and slept for almost twelve hours.

In the morning he made himself breakfast and realized that he couldn’t taste a thing. Not the hollow almost taste food gained when you were sick. He objectively knew what orange marmalade on toast should taste like, but as he chewed there was simply no flavour.

Merlin smiled, all his agents were coming home.

When Harry was found, he didn’t remember a personal thing about Merlin at all. Their friendship was just gone. It was cruel that it lingered in Merlin’s mind, but magic often was.

The Merlin always paid the price.

 

_ The objects in the room looked like a lost and found. Merlin had no idea why trainers with wings on the sides would appeal to him, or a travel to Cornwall poster from the 1930s. It was all junk. He wondered if, like so many Kingsman tests, it was a trick, bullshit in some way. But he knew he had to at least look around. _

_ A brass ring. _

_ A movie stub. _

_ A martini glass with a chip in the rim. _

_ Junk, the lot of it. _

_ Nothing spoke to him. The desk was nice, he supposed, a big, heavy thing. He wondered if he could ask for it for his office. It looked like it could take the weight of the computer he was building. _

_ His professors called him the next Turing, his friends the next Tesla. _

_ He wanted to be the next Merlin. _

_ He sat at the desk, it didn’t call to him, like the current Merlin suggested. It was just nice. He opened a few of the drawers but one was a bit stuck. He yanked hard and it opened. _

_ A small cardboard box sat in the drawer. _

_ And Merlin felt compelled to pick it up. _

_ It called to him _ .

 

“Galahad, ye seem blue,” Merlin said when the lad came home from a mission. He didn’t quite have that spark that he often did. All the other agents were solemn men, and Roxy had taken after them. Saving the world was serious business after all, but Eggsy had held onto that spark, the light that shone from him. Merlin didn’t like when it looked diminished. “Problem on the mission?”

Eggsy shook his head. “No, got home. There was a letter from Mum. Dean convinced her he has changed, give him one more chance. Moved her and Daisy back in. I got her out, why would she go back?”

“Many books have been written about the cycle of abuse, I can send ye some,” Merlin offered.

“Might help,” Eggsy shrugged, “I just want her safe. And I want Daisy safe, and happy. What’s the point of saving the world if I can’t even save them?” He wandered away, shoulders a little slumped.

Merlin went about his day and ate dinner with Harry, now Arthur, and they talked about the budget and upcoming missions. Merlin objectively knew his pad thai was spicy, but there was no taste to it. Harry never made a joke about something from long ago. He was finding it easier to adjust to the former than the latter.

He went home and poured himself a whisky. He went to the desk and tried to open the drawer and it wouldn’t. This wasn’t a worthy enough task, because it wasn’t about the world or the table. Sometimes the magic couldn’t understand what he did. He pressed his hand to the drawer. “Sometimes, we save a person. Galahad, is worth it. That boy deserves magic in his life.” The drawer resisted a bit but he did manage to open it and there was a piece of paper under the box.

Merlin lay everything out and dipped the pen into the empty ink pot.

 

**There was a knight, the new Galahad, and his heart was truer than any other who had sat at the table. Merlin could not bear to see that joy diminished, and wove a spell, and those that Galahad loved most were protected, made safe against a cruel and unjust world.**

**Michelle and Daisy were safe.**

 

The headache was worse than usual, because the magic didn’t feel this was a worthy enough task, but he didn’t care. He knew it was.

The Merlin always paid the price.

When he woke, everything seemed normal, and he dressed for the day. Because they felt real, they moved like they should, it took him awhile to process that his legs we not flesh but wood. Merlin sat down and knocked on the one knee, the hollow sound was almost a pleasant noise. It was like an old toy, he moved his leg back and forth, watched the wood move and shrugged. He always wore trousers, no one would ever notice. And they seemed to function fine. Merlin continued to dress and went to work.

A week later, Eggsy came running into Merlin’s office, beaming. “Guv, you aren’t going to believe it. Mum saw the light! She and Daisy are back in my flat.”

“Really?”

“Dean got wasted, and she knew, knew that he wouldn’t change and when he passed out, got her and Dais gone. Even got her talking to a lawyer. Restraining order and all that.” Eggsy couldn’t stand still. “It’s like a dream. I was sure, absolutely sure, I’d get a call from a hospital one day that he had wrecked her, or hurt Daisy. It was my biggest nightmare, that I couldn’t save her, save them. But now don’t have to.”

“That is wonderful, Eggsy,” Merlin said, and Eggsy’s joy and smile warmed Merlin. He pressed a hand to his wooden knee. “I am glad of it.”

“Me too,” Eggsy gave him a grin. “Thanks for listening, yeah?”

“Anytime, Eggsy,” Merlin said. He meant it. He couldn’t explain why, he just wanted Eggsy to be happy. The lad had had too much sadness in his life, and the job would take much from him. What rest, what contentment Merlin could provide he would.

 

_ It was an old pen, with nib for dipping. And an empty ink pot, he wondered where you even bought ink like that these days. He laughed at it. He barely used writing instruments anymore, preferring the computers he built. _

_ But when he did write, he had an elegant hand, an old fashioned one. _

_ He ran his finger along the pen and then held it. He never had a correct grip, been rapped on the knuckles so much as a child, that one had fractured, had a bump now. It was a shame there was no paper or ink. _

_ Even as he thought it, he looked down and one piece of paper was there. He pulled it out of the drawer and set it on the desk. He dipped the pen into the ink and set to the motion of writing. _

_ Two years of training was all that stopped him from jumping when the letters appeared on the paper. _

_ There was a man named Rory who wanted more than anything to be the Merlin. _

_ The words looked lovely. He put the pen in his pocket and rubbed at the headache that was forming. _

_ He went out of the weird little room and his trainer was waiting. _

_ “Hello, Merlin,” the man said and Merlin smiled. _

_ “Hello,” he had to shake his head. It was good his mother had been the romantic sort and named him Merlin. His name was his code name. Coincidences are lovely things _ .

 

Three missions later, Eggsy finally encountered a problem that he couldn’t find his way out of. He was trapped, cornered, his only advantage was that the people he was fighting were trapped too, it was going to be a vicious and terrifying stalemate.

“Galahad, I am switching you to my assistant,” Merlin said. “A pressing matter has come up.”

“More pressing than fucking this?” Eggsy shouted.

“Aye,” Merlin replied and switched the channel over to his assistant who gave him a look of disgust at abandoning an agent like that.

Merlin didn’t really care and hurried home. He went to the desk and sat down, he looked at the drawer. “If you even think of not opening, I set the whole thing ablaze.” The drawer opened smoothly. “Goddamn right,” he muttered and set the paper on the desk and opened the cardboard box carefully. 

He took a deep breath and dipped the pen into the empty pot.

 

**There was an agent, better than any Merlin had ever known. An agent who was just and true and was facing his end squarely on. But the world was short of just and true men and Merlin willingly gave of himself to bring the agent home. Galahad returned home with nothing more than minor injuries and a mad story of an insane and impossible escape.**

 

Merlin was taking no chances even though the ink seemed dark enough. Twice more he wrote

 

**Galahad returned home with nothing more than minor injuries and a mad story of an insane and impossible escape** .

 

The headache had his eyes fogging at the edges, but he managed to put the pen away. He had used the pen more in the last year than he had in the 10 before it. The cost was growing heavy.

But for Eggsy, Merlin paid the price.

It took him two days to wake up and when he did, colours were gone entirely from the world. He cut himself shaving unused to the desaturation. He saw the blood well, the only splash of colour in his world. He knew his towels were red but they couldn’t be seen, just the blood. Lovely. That wouldn’t be unsettling at all during missions. He went to work and everyone was cold to him, word spread that he had walked away from Galahad’s mission.

No one was colder than Eggsy. “Thought you were different, Merlin.”

“I am,” He promised.

“Really because feels like you fucked me over, left me, just like everyone else has ever done. You know what makes you worse than all the others?” Eggsy didn’t even look mad, just broken. “You? I believed in you. Fuck you, Merlin. Never talk to me outside work again. We’re done.”

Merlin nodded, “I understand sir.”

“Why didn’t you want to save me?” Eggsy asked.

Merlin looked at him. “I did save ye,” he said and walked to his office. He was ignored by everyone who could ignore him, Harry let it be known another situation like that and he would be dismissed and his own staff were almost insubordinate. It was fine.

He gladly paid the price.

 

_ Be careful, you have been given power, some of the last in the world. It has a heavy cost, use it carefully and well. _

_ I understand. _

_ No, you don’t. But you will. _

 

He hadn’t realized how much Eggsy had been around until he was gone. It was if winter came immediately after summer. He was left cold and in the dark. He missed colours. He could remember what blue looked like, what the colour of Eggsy’s eyes were but when they did look at each other, there was no colour, no sparkle. Not that they made eye contact often. Eggsy had requested and received Harry’s full support that Merlin’s assistant was in charge of Eggsy’s missions. A few other agents followed suit and Merlin found himself with time on his hands. He went back to his old hobby of building computers.

Oddly, Roxy was an agent who stuck with him, he was sure she would have supported Eggsy the whole way through. But there she was, in his office, and they were going over her upcoming mission. At the end she looked at him. “I understand,” she told him. “I think I do.”

“Understand what, Lancelot?” Merlin was curious what she was thinking, what she had thought she had seen.

“You love him.”

Merlin quirked a brow. “Do I?”

“Eggsy has been blathering on furious at you for how you said you saved him, when you walked away and what bullshit that is. He is so caught up in his feelings, he doesn’t see yours. Because you were too emotionally invested. You couldn’t see the way around the situation, too scared for him personally. You switched him to your assistant, because that was the only way to save him.”

Merlin shrugged. “Ye are fairly close to the truth.” He didn’t love Eggsy, he didn’t think. Or maybe he did, what he felt was a sort of love. All he wanted was for the man to be happy. He’d be fine with being ignored by Eggsy, if it meant Eggsy was happy. “I did save him by walking away. But he will not hear my explanation.”

“You could try. He is miserable without you.”

“We were friendly enough, but he will bond with others in the agency now. He was too attached to me. Birds need to fly away from the nest.”

“Ugh, men,” Roxy sighed. “He stayed close not because he couldn’t make other friends here, but because he didn’t want anything else but you, and now he is a pain in everyone’s arse with how cranky he is. Talk to him. Explain. Make him happy again yeah?”

Merlin nodded. He could make Eggsy happy again. Roxy looked relieved and went off to the gym. Merlin didn’t need to talk to him. Explain. Eggsy didn’t want that, and he would never bring more sadness to Eggsy, he couldn’t.

Perhaps he did love the man after all.

That night when it was almost midnight, Merlin was sitting at the desk. He had been sitting there for hours. He didn’t try to open the drawer, knew it wouldn’t. This was a wrong magic he was asking for. It was not what the objects were for, what he was meant to do. He and the desk were both waiting, to see if he truly meant it. He drank a whisky and looked out the window. His view was just a brick wall. The clock chimed midnight and the drawer opened on it’s own.

Merlin picked up the paper and the cardboard box and put them on the desk. The chimes continued even thought he had no such clock in his house. He dipped the pen in the empty inkpot.

 

**There was a lad just and true. A knight of Kingsman. And all Merlin wanted was for Galahad to be happy.**

**And all Merlin wanted was for Galahad to be happy.**

**And all Merlin wanted was for Galahad to be happy.**

 

The last chime rang and rang and rang through the house. He put the pen away in the cheap cardboard box, in an odd shaped drawer, in a too big desk, in a too small house, by a man who sacrificed too much.

There was no headache, there was no sleep, there was simply nothing.

Merlin paid the price.

 

_ A year and a day later _

 

Eggsy was on a mission. He was poking about the estate determined to do into every room of the place. It was one of those silly ideas that got stuck in his head but it amused him in between missions.

He liked silly ideas.

He whistled as he went to the last three rooms in the east wing that he had to discover. Life was pretty good, missions went smooth, he and Harry were best mates, Roxy and he were joined at the hip, platonic soulmates, Mum and Daisy were thriving in Wales. Wasn’t dating really, but he was okay with that, all in all there was not a single complaint to be had.

Boring empty room, and boring bedroom.

And then he hit the jackpot. He tapped his glasses delighted. “Oi, Merlin, why didn’t you tell me we had a weird rubbish room in the east wing?”

There was a snicker in his ear, “That place? Creeps me out, I’m not going in there,” she said. “It doesn’t want me.”

“Scared of ghosts, luv?”

“You know it,” she replied and disconnected.

Eggsy went into the room and began to poke around. “Oh this is the best,” he said into the quiet. It was like every leftover thing in a boot sale had been dumped in the room. He figured if no one else cared about the room, and he found something brilliant, he could totally claim it. There were neat old posters, and what seemed like random prizes from a carnival and a sheet covering something huge. He pulled the sheet off and stumbled back in horror. He tripped over something and fell to the ground.

It was a huge old desk and it had a wooden man sitting at it. The old Merlin. The one who had trained him, saved the world with him, and retired when Harry came back. They had a huge party for him, and he went back to Scotland. He remembered this so clearly.

Why the fuck was there a wooden statue of Merlin in this odd little room, behind a too big desk, holding a too shiny pen in one hand, and a whole bunch of french vanilla pages in the other. Eggsy stood up and pried the sheets out of the grip. 

The writing was beautiful.

He began to cry as he read the few sentences written on each page. Mini stories that broke his heart, about agents, about the world, and when he saw his name, his code name and the words about his mum, his life, he began to sob.

_ And all Merlin wanted was for Galahad to be happy _ .

He traced his fingers over the words again and again. Eggsy carefully put the sheets back in the hands of the wooden man. He touched the faint smile on his face.

He had been a nice bloke, encouraging, strict but kind. He remembered the goodbye party.

He wiped his tears away and looked around the junk room, it didn’t seem half so clever now. Eggsy looked down at what he had tripped over before and there were a pair of winged trainers. The limited edition ones he had always wanted. Fuck would have made him stupid happy to have had them back when.

_ And all Merlin wanted was for Galahad to be happy _ .

He reached for the shoes and it felt like they were trying to repel him. Bullshit. He felt like his hand was pushing through mud but he managed to grab them and put them on.

A headache began to build, they weren’t for him. They weren’t supposed to be for him. Unless he was willing to pay the price.

He wondered why he thought that.

Would he be willing to pay the price?

He looked at the statue, at the faint smile on its face, of a man he remembered fondly enough.

_ And all Merlin wanted was for Galahad to be happy _ .

Yeah, fuck it, Eggsy would pay the price.

The whole room shivered and Eggsy felt the urge to run. He ran, hard and fast out of the estate, not sure what direction he was going or why, just knew that he needed to run. That if he stopped that meant he wasn’t willing to pay the price. He didn’t know what it was or why it needed to be paid, but he was going to do it.

He ran and ran and his legs were aching and his heart was racing. Wind was forcing tears out of his eyes, and the seasons and the world moved around him and if he slowed for even a second the words 

_ Would you pay the price _

echoed in his mind and he got himself up to speed again. How the fuck he ended up in London he had no idea, and it was dark out, somehow almost midnight in front of a row house door. It was an odd house, seemed too skinny to be real. He banged on the door but there was no answer. Eggsy kicked it in. “Merlin?” he called.

A clock somewhere began to chime. He had to beat the chime.

_ Would you pay the price _

He ran up the stairs and wondered if he was having a heart attack. Each step his body ached a little more, felt stiff. There was pain in his shoulder and his skin was feeling wrong. He kept moving forward though, knew where to go even though he had never been there before.

He pushed open a door and collapsed on the ground. “I make my own happiness,” he managed to say and looked up. “I am happy, you make me happy.” Because seeing Merlin, he remembered the man. Every conversation, every smile, every fight. “You could make me happy.”

He could see two and a half lines written on the page. “Don’t, please,” Eggsy said.

“I’m willing to pay the price,” Merlin said.

“I paid it for you,” Eggsy replied. He tried to pull air into his lungs and it felt like not enough. “I paid...I paid,” he had to kick the shoes off, they were done with him.

The clock chimed midnight and the words were unfinished.

Eggsy leaned against the wall. “Fuck why do I ache? I mean sure ran from the estate to here, which I think means I fucking turned back time or something, but still,” he groaned and when he looked down his hands, looked like his hands but just a little different.

Merlin crouched next to him, and a thumb brushed the corner of his eye, and ran through his hair. “Magic costs, more than you realize.” He lifted a trouser leg and Eggsy saw the wood. He pressed his hand against it and it was so warm, almost pulsed under his fingers. “More than you should have paid.”

“You were willing to pay it for me,” Eggsy said.

“My job as your quartermaster.”

“I saw your words. That wasn’t just a quartermaster.” Merlin held up his phone in selfie mode and Eggsy looked at himself. He had aged at least ten years on his run. “Well, that’s going to be tough to explain.” Eggsy touched the crow’s feet, the grey hair, just as Merlin had done.

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Merlin said.

Eggsy looked at him. “Merlin. I’m happy. I’ll be happy. What you do here, it is a false happy, because it doesn’t have you in it. Don’t ever finish those words okay? That would make me happy.” Eggsy sagged against the wall when Merlin went over and ripped the page to pieces and put the pen away. “I could really use a cuppa,” Eggsy said.

“I can make you one,” Merlin replied and they went downstairs to an galley kitchen in a too skinny house, that held a too big desk, which kept safe a peculiar pen, and spoke until dawn of all the things that made Eggsy happy.

Merlin featured heavily in the list.


End file.
